Circumstances
by Kathy Knudsen1
Summary: A saloon girl recounts her acquaintance with Jed Curry


The first time I met Jed Curry was in Hastings. Years later Jed told me he was sixteen at the time though I remember guessing him for fourteen or maybe just fifteen. I was fifteen but I could pass for a couple of years older which was the age I had claimed to the owner of the Silver Dollar when I applied for the job there. I had been working there about a month when one afternoon Jed and his friend Han walked in, stepped up to the bar, and ordered beers.

Blue eyes and curly blond hair caught my attention right off. The dark haired one, Han, leaned over and said something to Jed and I saw his shoulders shake with laughter. He turned his back to the bar and the smile on his face was positively joyful and carefree and I found myself thinking this was a fella who'd had an easy way in life so far. I learned otherwise in little snippets over the years but It wasn't till years later I really learned how wrong I was.

I did my best fifteen year old impression of sashaying up to him, presenting my best features as I rubbed my hand up and down his arm. I saw him blush so I knew I was making an impression.

"You boys seem to be having a good time," I said and then looked right at old blue eyes. "Maybe I could help make it even better."

"Maybe it's time you learned what life's all about, Kid," His friend said. "Me, I'm going to head over to the table to play some poker. Maybe you'd like getting to know the little lady."

Blue eyes blushed again. "Thank you, Ma'am. Maybe another time," he stuttered.

"How much, Ma'am?" his friend asked

"With or without?" I asked.

"No sense starting a lineage at his age. With," Han said.

"Two dollars."

"For how long?"

I looked at the red faced young man who refused to make any eye contact. "That's up to him," I replied.

The dark haired one reached into his vest pocket and pulled out some money. He counted out two dollars and handed it to me.

"Han," the blonde protested, but I reached down and took his hand and gave him a slight tug. "Bring your beer," I said.

He followed me, but when I turned around to look at him, he was glowering at his friend.

When we reached my room he stopped, so I tugged at him again and pulled him inside.

"Ma'am, you can keep the two dollars but, is there a back way out of here?" he asked.

I looked at the nervous, innocent face and smiled and shook my head. "There is and I'll show it to you provided you at least sit and talk to me for half an hour. I can't go back downstairs this quick. Your friend will know exactly what happened."

He sat down on the bed, then all nervous like, jumped up and moved to a chair. "You're right. It's a deal. He'd never let me live that down."

"So why are you so skiddish?" I asked.

"I ain't skiddish. I just don't think it's up to Han to be making those kind of decisions for me."

"What is he to you? He don't look like a brother."

"My cousin. Han and me have been on our own for eight years now."

"You two run away from home when you was boys?"

"No, Ma'am... Just ….. circumstance. We ain't got no other family."

Given the time frame, that would have made them both just boys at the time of the 'circumstance.' I assumed they were some sort of war casualties and eight years was probably not enough time to take the rawness out of whatever happened. I decided not to pursue the point.

"So, what about you, Ma'am?" Kid asked.

"What?"

"Well, not meaning to be rude or impolite, looks to me like under all that rouge, you're about my age. How did you come to be working here that young?"

"Well, like you, I've been on my own quite a while. I guess we all have our own circumstances."

"You're folks murdered too?"

"What?... No... No. Home just wasn't a good place. I decided about anything would be better than that place."

Kid nodded his understanding.

"You ever get a night off, Ma'am?" Kid asked

I smiled. He was just so sweet. "I'm off on Thursdays. And would you quit calling me Ma'am? My name is Claire."

Kid smiled. "Most folks call me Kid. Would you like to have dinner with me Thursday, Claire?" he asked.

That was the beginning of our friendship. I think we were two lost souls who found a kinship in each other. We've been friends ever since. I move around a lot from town to town and because of the path Kid and Heyes chose, they do the same. After a time I come to know they were the Devil's Hole outlaws, but I always figured that weren't none of my business. After all, they never objected to my line of work. We don't run into each other very often, maybe five or six times since that first meeting, but I always feel a real joy when I see Kid walk into whatever saloon I'm working at. We never have gone upstairs again. But we always go out for dinner.

Two months ago, Kid walked into the saloon and into my life again. It was in Elko. It's been eleven years since that first meeting and to tell you the truth, I had to look twice at the man who stood at the bar drinking whiskey. He had a beard. The smile was gone. Those eyes, as blue as a clear blue mountain lake, looked weary, almost old. His face was white as fresh snow. He held his shoulders hunched and his left arm close to his body. He still wore that same tan Sherpa, stained with sweat and grime.

I walked over and stood beside him. He didn't look up from his whiskey.

"Want to have a good time, cowboy?" I asked.

He turned his head to look at me and I saw the hint of a smile near the corners of his mouth. "With or without?" he asked, followed quickly with "It's good to see you, Claire."

I picked up his glass and the bottle of whiskey and led him to a table. He eased himself slowly into a chair. He winced as his right hand grabbed his left shoulder and pressed it closer to his body.

"You hurt?"

"I'll be fine."

"You're hurt. You need a doctor?"

He didn't answer.

"Where's Heyes?"

"I don't know. We had to split up. We're supposed to meet up again in a few days."

"Here?"

He shook his head but wouldn't say where.

"Come on. I'll take you back to my place."

He shook his head again.

"I ain't asking you. I'm telling you. Let's go"

I stood up and picked up the bottle of whiskey but still he didn't budge.

"How far?"

I didn't think about him not being able to make to my place. "Two blocks."

"I got my horse outside."

"You want to ride him?"

He shook his head.

"I'll come back for your horse. Now let's get going."

It took a lot effort for him to pull himself out of that chair.

"Jake, I'm knocking off for the night," I called to the bartender as I slipped Kid's right arm across my shoulder.

"You need help, Claire?" Jake asked.

"We'll manage."

"You want me to send the doctor over to your place?"

"No," Kid said.

"Yea, thanks," I told Jake.

Kid was panting after just a few steps and we stopped for him to catch his breath. It took almost twenty minutes to reach my place. I unlocked the door and helped Kid inside and eased him into a chair. His head lolled against the back of the chair and he panted heavily. I immediately took to getting the Sherpa, gun belt, shirt, and Henley off, all of which caused him considerable pain. All of which were blood stained. A rolled up bandanna was blood dried against the wound.

I got up and went to the kitchen for water and rags to wash Kid's chest. The wound was in his chest, real close to his shoulder. I trickled water all along that dried bandanna until I was able to gently peel it away from the wound. Judging by the size of the wound, it was likely a riffle shot rather than a .45 and it looked deep.

"When did this happen?"

Kid's eyes were closed. His breathing shallow and still panting.

"Kid, when did this happen?"

"Couple of days," he whispered.

"You've been bleeding for two days?"

He didn't answer.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," I shouted and Jake and Dr. Henry came into the room."

"What have we got here?" Dr. Henry asked, getting down on his knees in front of Kid.

"Looks like a riffle wound."

"Do you know him?" Dr. Henry asked.

I nodded. "Yes, he's name's Jed. I've known him for years."

Dr. Henry probed around Kid's chest. Kid didn't utter a sound. He was out cold.

"Judging by his color and the age of this wound, he's lost a lot of blood. I'll have to remove the bullet which will cause more bleeding. Can we get him into a bed?"

I nodded. "I'll show you where."

Jake and the doctor hoisted Kid from the chair and carried him to my bed and laid him on his back.

"I have to go back to my office to get some supplies. While I'm gone, I want you to wash his chest with that whiskey. If he wakens, make him drink as much of that bottle as you can," Dr. Henry said.

"Doc, I have to get back to the saloon. You want me to send someone over to help hold him down?"

Dr. Henry shook his head. "I don't think he's got much fight in him right now. I think we'll be fine."

After they left, I picked up the whiskey bottle and soaked a clean cloth and then started washing Kid's chest again. He woke up when the whiskey hit the wound and he winced and cried out but didn't physically fight or push me away. I lifted his head and brought the bottle to his mouth.

"Drink this, as much as you can. It'll help the pain."

Kid drank four good gulps but the effort exhausted him and he went limp so I eased his head back down on the pillow.

While Kid slept, I gathered all the oil lamps in the house and lit them in my room to give Dr. Henry as much light as possible. I brought a small table into the room for the doctor to set his equipment. I put water on the stove to boil.

Dr. Henry didn't take long in returning and set to work right away. Kid proved to be a bit feistier than expected so I tied his ankles and right wrist to the bed posts, near the mattress, and turned his left arm palm side up on the bed. I rested my knee in the palm of his hand and held on tight to his arm with both my hands. It was enough to subdue him well for DR. Henry to extract the riffle bullet. Dr. Henry soaked a clean cloth in whiskey and cleaned off Kid's chest. Then he proceeded to stitch the wound which again resulted in some unsuccessful thrashing on Kid's part.

"If he doesn't die first from the blood loss, he'll likely sleep through the night," Dr. Henry said after dressing the wound. "Send for me if you need me. Otherwise I'll be back in the morning to check on him."

Once Dr. Henry left, I untied Kids ankles and wrist. I didn't think his face could look any more white then when he walked into the bar, but I was wrong. He looked like death lying there in my bed. I covered him with two blankets.

I got the room back in order, the lamps extinguished and put away and then I dragged a comfortable chair into the room and sat down and wrapped myself in a blanket.

He did sleep through the night, and well into the next morning. Slept right through Dr. Henry's visit. He didn't seem no better, breathing hard and shallow, still pale and weak, drifting in and out of some sort of confusion. Sometimes he knew who I was and sometimes he didn't.

I spent the next three days tending to him, keeping the wound clean, the bandages changed, feeding him when he'd eat, giving him water. By that third day he was pretty lucid, starting to mend and starting to get restless from being in bed so long.

"What day is it?

"Thursday."

He groaned. "I need to send a telegram. Would you do that for me, Claire?"

I got a pencil and paper and asked him what he wanted said.

"To Joshua Smith. I'm in Elko, healing."

"How you want it signed off?"

"Your name."

"I don't know Joshua Smith."

"It's what I call Han, now."

"You two must be in a peck of trouble."

One side of his mouth smiled and gave a short little laugh. "Always, Claire."

"Where you want it sent?"

"Butte."

I sent the telegram for him that afternoon.

I was surprised Sunday afternoon when Heyes came knocking at my door.

Two days later they were both gone again. Kid left me a note thanking me for my help and apologizing for not taking me to dinner. He also left me some money to cover expenses. Just before they walked out the door, I remember looking into those eyes of his and seeing some sort of sadness, some sort of finality, like this was the last time we'd meet. It gave me a shiver.

Now, two months later, I was standing at the bar staring at the headlines of the weekly newspaper. _Kid Curry and Hanibal Heyes sentenced to twenty years in Wyoming Territorial Prison. _I remember that look in the Kid's eyes the last time I saw Kid.

And I knew that likely was the last time I'd see him.

Just another bit of 'circumstance,' I suppose.


End file.
